


tuseday at the minneapolis institute of art

by zeitgeistofnow



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Wendla and Ernst are art students? i think?, college AU sorta, i have a thing for art related aus ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:31:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeitgeistofnow/pseuds/zeitgeistofnow
Summary: hanschen makes it a habit to peoplewatch at the MIA. there's usually the neatest people there, people who love the art and make themselves into their own type of art. he doesn't expect to meet someone- to talk to people of his own accord, but he does anyway. he's not sure why.





	tuseday at the minneapolis institute of art

Hanschen lives just a few blocks away from the MIA- close enough that he can walk to the museum in the summer and stumble/slip his way to it in the winter, which he takes full advantage of whenever he’s free and in the mood for a short walk and getting lost among the paintings. He has the map memorized, down to the colors symbolizing each of the art styles. 

He’s going there today, taking the walk more leisurely than usual. It’s early fall and the park across from the art museum is filled with orange-yellow-red trees and there’s fallen leaves racing across the sidewalk in front of him. The air even smells good, in a way Hanschen can’t quite explain, because it also smells like car exhaust. There are only a few cars in front of the museum, too- three priuses, a couple other cars, a yellow school bus from Braintree- which means that either everyone else walked to the museum or it’s going to be pretty empty. Hanschen hopes it’s the former, because as pleasant as it is being alone in the room with only old greek sculptures, it’s even nicer people-watching. Art students are way more entertaining to look at than the guys in Hanschen’s econ classes.

He slips through the glass doors, gets his museum pass, and races up the stairs to the meandering classical art section. It’s always been Hanschen’s favorite, left over from his teenaged years as a snob in literally every section of his life. His art tastes and Melchior were the only things from that phase he’d kept, thankfully. 

He wanders through the hallways, pausing at his favorites- a little wistfully, if he’s being honest. Everything seems so much easier in art, even the ones that seem chaotic and upsetting, just like everything seems easier when it’s frozen in a photograph. There’s no way any of it could go wrong because it’s stuck how it is. He only encounters a half-dozen people throughout as many rooms, and most of them are tourists, or parents with children. There’s a pair of people around Hanschen’s in the room with the Rembrandt, though. 

A girl with dark space buns and pale skin, light freckles dotting the back of her neck. There’s a camera strap around her neck and a canvas messenger bag against her hip. She’s in a white dress and a dark denim jacket that hangs off her slight frame. It’s probably not hers, Hanschen rationalizes. It’s probably her boyfriend’s, who’s probably the boy next to her.

He’s tall, with wavy pastel pink hair that comes just past his shoulders and heeled boots that make him probably 6’4”. His shirt is dark red and tucked into high waisted jeans and his wrist is piled with friendship bracelets in a rainbow of colors. They’re both staring at one of the paintings the museum chose to accentuate the feature piece of the room, facing away from him.

The girl turns away from it abruptly and grins at her partner. “Okay but we’re here on an  _ actual  _ project.”

The guy groans, but he looks happy. “I told you, I’m not a model. I just wanted to look at the art.”

“And I drove you here, so you owe me.” The girl bats her eyelashes and lifts her camera. “Pose!”

The boy looks off into the distance. Posing seems to come naturally to him, and that and just… how he looks makes it hard for Hanschen to believe that he’s  _ not  _ a model. 

They’re probably dating, but that’s never stopped him before. He walks up to the pair just as the girl snaps a picture. “Excuse me, I don’t think you’re supposed to take pictures of the art.”

She smiles up at him, confused but sheepish. “Sorry, I was just taking a picture of my friend.”

“I know.” Hanschen winks at the boy, because why not? He blushes, which is  _ adorable.  _ The girl raises her eyebrows and looks him up and down. Hanschen though he looked nice when he left his house- he’s wearing his biggest hoop earrings and a cardigan that comes down to his thighs and is just warm enough to go outside without a jacket- but he feels like he’s been measured and just barely passed.

“I’m Wendla,” she says, in a way that’s polite and makes it clear that Hanschen is supposed to say his name now. Hanschen’s mom talked like that too.

“Hanschen Rilow.” 

“Uh, I’m Ernst.” Ernst’s blush hasn’t receded at all, and he looks like he knows that and is incredibly embarrassed.

Hanschen smiles at Ernst. “Nice to meet you, Ernst.”

“Um.” Ernst nods jerkily. “You too.”

 

Hanschen walks with them for the next few rooms- he and Wendla become fast friends, but Ernst doesn’t manage to say more than a few words at a time. He poses for Wendla every room or two, glancing sheepishly at Hanschen whenever he does so. Wendla leaves to use the bathroom a few floors in. Hanschen leans against the wall and watches Ernst watch a clip on the ancient greeks the museum has up. 

“So,” he asks, “come here often?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Ernst responds, not looking up at Hanschen. “It’s one of my favorite places in the city but I’m too lazy to get out here that often and I always feel bad when I don’t donate money, but I have no money to donate, so I’m guilt-tripped into staying home.” 

It’s the most he’s said to Hanschen yet, but he’s studiously not making eye contact, so Hanschen’s not sure if it counts.

“You?” He asks, glancing up at Hanschen and then quickly back to the screen, whose message has looped. He seems unbothered.

“I only live a few blocks away and I’m not weight down but a conscience like yours, so I’m here a few times a week.” Hanschen says, walking closer to Ernst, stepping so that he’s in Ernst’s line of sight. Ernst looks away and Hanchen has a incredibly view of his ear, triple pierced, with dyed hair tucked sloppily behind it. “So, are you and Wendla together?”

“Nope!” Ernst pops his ‘p’ and then blushes. “We’re actually meeting her girlfriend for tea after this. Well, coffee for Thea, tea for me and Wendla.”

“You’re third-wheeling with them?”

Ernst’s blush deepens. “Well, I wasn’t  _ going  _ to be.” he scowls at the wall opposite Hanschen. “My date cancelled this morning. He was a bit of a dick.”

“That sucks.”

Ernst hums his agreement, then abruptly looks up and makes eye contact with Hanschen. His eyes are chocolate brown and have a determined set to them. “Would you want to join us?”

Hanschen chuckles. “Would I want to be a third wheel with you?” 

“No, would you like to be, like, my date?”

 

Hanschen accepts, of course, and it’s the best cup of coffee he’s had in a while.


End file.
